


Mylock Is The Cure

by LadyGlinda



Series: Pandemic Drabbles [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Mycroft Holmes, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bonding, Crack Treated Seriously, Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Sherlock, Pandemics, Sibling Incest, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda
Summary: The world is plagued by a deadly pandemic. But there can be a cure in form of a special child. Unfortunately, it means that Sherlock, who hates being an omega, has to have sex with his alpha brother. How will this end?
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Series: Pandemic Drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685062
Comments: 33
Kudos: 91





	Mylock Is The Cure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlytherinsDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinsDragon/gifts).



> Somehow the COVID-19 pandemic inspires me to write very strange stories. This is not a story about the corona virus though and I don't want to appear as if I was making fun of it, this is not my intention. But perhaps some of you will like this weird little fic. To everybody who reads this - stay safe!  
> Gifted to my dear SlytherinsDragon, who totally spoilt me. Without her, I would have never written a/b/o fics!

**1**

“No. Absolutely not.” Mycroft shook his head and made a very clear gesture with his hand.

“There is no saying ‘no’, Holmes. You must do it.”

“This is ridiculous!”

The Prime Minister, sitting on the visitor’s chair, pointed at the red paper folder that was lying between them on Mycroft's desk. “No. It is all in there. It’s the only way to cure this illness.”

“You know that sounds like hocus-pocus! Why not take the blood of a chicken, combined with some snake venom!” Mycroft had raised his voice, which he did not do very often. But he couldn’t remember having had such a good reason for it before. He knew he wasn’t a scientist, unlike his brother, but despite looking at all the colourful diagrams and calculations, it made no sense to him.

“This was written by one of our best scientists. And I believe him. So you must do it.”

“No. This is so stupid that there aren’t even words for it. My brother will never agree to do it anyway.” The thought was actually hilarious. He could basically hear Sherlock laugh. Well, probably he would rather get very loud… Then he would rush out with swinging coat tails and throw his scarf for good measure. Sherlock did tend to be dramatic.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that…” The PM smirked in a way that made Mycroft ball his right hand into a fist. “Take the suppressants away from him, lock him up with you… I’m sure he can be convinced to do that.”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. “Are you even aware of what you are saying? You want to force me to rape my little brother!”

The PM paled. “No! This isn’t about violating him! You know how omegas react when they are in heat and alone with an alpha. He will throw himself onto you.”

“So you want him to rape _me_ ,” Mycroft said, dryly.

“It’s for the sake of the nation, your stubborn fool!” Suddenly the blond man’s face had become decidedly red. “You and your brother are the perfect match! It was all calculated and proven. Nobody else can do it. With the right preparation, you will create the child that will carry the genome to make this disease history!”

“Well, good luck with that, because then you will have to convince my brother to get poked with needles for days until he is forced to go into heat. He will rather leave the country than do this!”

The politician nodded. “That’s why he, and you, I may stress, will be financially rewarded generously. His friend John Watson will get the job he’s applied for; I can guarantee that.”

Mycroft sighed. “My brother is incorruptible. He only does what he wants.” Fine, if John was concerned… Perhaps this was indeed an incentive. But no. Sherlock would still not agree.

“Well, then it is your job to convince him. Neither of you will be harmed and your child won’t be, either! Once your brother is pregnant, he will be treated by the best medicals in the country.”

“We are first grade relatives. The danger of…”

“Don’t worry about this, Mycroft. One of the treatments your brother will receive beforehand will reduce this risk to a minimum, and you know that relationships between alpha- and omega-siblings are hardly something unheard of.” The tousled man in the crumpled black suit bent forward. “You have done so much for Queen and country already. But this is the most important thing you will have ever done for our kingdom and the rest of the world.”

Mycroft felt trapped. Well, he was. This was pure madness – expecting him to impregnate his own brother, who had, as far as he knew, never gone into heat because he despised the fact that he was born as an omega. He had never wanted to have sex with anyone. And Mycroft, the gay alpha, had not indulged in physical pleasures very often, either. It was just… icky and messy and unnecessary. And now he and Sherlock should be forced to do it with each other? Just for the sake of producing a child that would save half the population of the kingdom?

The virus had come without warning. Spreading throughout the world – in all probability from a laboratory, deliberately or not, Mycroft was unsure of, but nobody had been able to figure out where it had started. It had attacked on all fronts at the same time. People who caught it got a new kind of pneumonia and more or less coughed themselves to death. All attempts at developing a cure had failed; the hospitals were barely able to treat the symptoms. Health care had been stretched to its limits. And now? Was it really possible that this could work? Would a child of him and Sherlock be the saviour the world was waiting for? How would they call it – Jesus II Holmes?

“In nine months, there will be hardly anyone left anyway,” he said cruelly, knowing that he had basically given in. A lot of people were immune to the illness though, like he, Sherlock, John Watson and DI Lestrade. Or they were for a long time and then, bam, they got it, like Sergeant Sally Donovan, who had worked for Lestrade. Or they didn’t even notice that they had the virus, having no symptoms, but they still gave it to others. And a lot of people died from it. And more would die if there wasn’t a cure.

“It’s the only chance we have. You know the measures we’ve taken.”

Yes. Most stores closed, people only allowed to go outside for a good reason… It did help but it wouldn’t help forever.

Mycroft took a deep breath. “I will talk to Sherlock.”

The PM beamed at him. “Thank you, Mycroft! The nation owes you so much!”

*****

Sherlock looked up from the folder that he was holding in his elegant hands. “You are kidding me, right?”

Mycroft sighed. “No. Unfortunately not.”

“What? What’s going on?”

Mycroft would have preferred if John Watson had not been in the same room when he told Sherlock about this delicate matter. Or in the same country, for that matter. But of course Sherlock had insisted on him staying. Attached at the hip, these two… Thank God John was a straight beta… And still he adored Sherlock a lot. Too much, some people would say. Including Mycroft…

Sherlock huffed out a laugh. “It must be April 1st. The government… No, read for yourself.” And with this he handed the folder to John.

“This is not meant for his eyes!” Mycroft protested, knowing it to be futile.

Sherlock just grinned and shook his head, and John started to read, his cheeks flaming up. “No. That can’t… What?!” He had probably come to the part where he would get the job he so desperately wanted… High in the ranks of the NHS with plenty of free time to spend with Sherlock, solving cases. “This is intolerable! They can’t just…”

“They can, you know,” Mycroft interrupted the annoying little man, crossing his long legs. He was sitting in what his brother called the client’s chair and it was not very comfortable.

“They want to…”

“...lock us away in a posh house and make us fuck until I’m pregnant, yes.” Sherlock shook his head. “What did they take?” He sounded genuinely amazed. Maybe even impressed by this insane idea.

Mycroft regarded him closely. He was actually surprised that Sherlock had not exploded. He seemed to just find it rather funny. But Mycroft had seen omegas in heat, craving for every knot in reach. Would Sherlock really be like this? Reduced to frantic sexual needs, impaling himself on him? Yes, Mycroft had been with omegas and it had been messy. But to even imagine his cool brother, Mr Consulting Detective, could become such a needy creature… It was impossible.

And of course Sherlock thought the same. “I will never get into such a condition, Mycroft.”

“No? You are immune to the needs of your secondary gender? Then why do you take your suppressants?” They also suppressed the sweet scent other omegas elicited. Not that Sherlock didn’t smell good anyway, better than any open omega Mycroft had ever met, and where had this thought come from?

Sherlock tightened his jaws but he didn’t seem to have an answer to this question. “If they think our DNA would lead to such a child, why not mix it together in a laboratory?”

That was something Mycroft didn’t understand, either. But it was all in the folder. “It has to be a natural… conception.”

“It makes no sense. And it will never work.”

“Then what do you have to lose? You will get one third of the money for just stopping to take the suppressants and go to this house with me, and for enduring some injections beforehand. That’s a lot of money to spend on designers suits and cab rides. And John will earn much more money for way less work. Or are you too afraid of being poked with needles?” It was the only way – challenging Sherlock to do it. Sibling rivalry and he being smug big brother had always worked for them…

And it did work now. “Fine. I’ll do it. Let them torture me with syringes. But I won’t go into heat and will never, ever have sex with you.”

John Watson was shocked and shaken and seemed to be ashamed of also being happy about the part of the deal that concerned him, Mycroft felt a strange fluttering in his stomach and Sherlock looked offended and appalled. All in all, a truly memorable moment…

**2**

Mycroft was typing away on his laptop keyboard. While he was sitting here at a large desk in a huge, bright room, hearing the birds singing outside, waiting for whatever to happen, he could as well do some work. Of course most of it had been delegated to a very embarrassed Lady Smallwood and a head-shaking Sir Edwin. But he still had to glance at reports and give orders, based on his conclusions. He might not be the British Government like Sherlock had once called him, but he was doing a job that nobody else could do. Well… That seemed to be his calling...

“Still nothing happening,” a triumphant Sherlock informed him from behind.

“You received the heat elicitor only two hours ago. It can take up to two days,” Mycroft answered calmly without turning to him.

Sherlock had been rather stoic about the treatment, he had to admit. He remembered a little brother who had run screaming from doctor’s offices… And not even in his darkest drug days, he had used injections. Sherlock abhorred them. But he had barely flinched, too keen he was on proving that he could resist being forced into heat. And the money had certainly helped, too, let alone the new job for John. This would not be taken away again if it didn’t work – as long as they stayed in this house and did what was expected from them. Everything had been observed and recorded – nobody could doubt that Sherlock had done his part. Well, up to actually having sex for receiving the child of all children – which would not be recorded. At least they had said that… But without going into heat, he wouldn’t be able to do that anyway. And what if he did and Mycroft didn’t respond with the matching rut? He had not gotten any injections as nobody knew when Sherlock’s heat would really start. And frankly – an alpha, locked up with an attractive, sex-needy omega of his preferred sex, would not resist the temptation, no matter who this omega was. He just wouldn’t be able to and they were here because he had agreed to do it anyway.

Why had he? He had avoided thinking about this for days. And Sherlock had, surprisingly enough, not asked him. But Mycroft had always tried to be honest with himself so he nodded slightly now, answering a question that suggested itself – did he find Sherlock attractive, little brother or not? Of course he did. He might be his brother and averse to sexual activity, but he wasn’t _blind_. Sherlock was handsome and trained, and his arse was a sight to behold. Mycroft could very well imagine, on the physical side, to bury himself in it. The thought might even have some effect on his nether regions…

But he would never force himself onto his brother. If Sherlock did reach heat, and it was indeed to be expected, if little brother wanted to believe it or not, and freaked out, what was to be expected as well, he would not do anything against his will. He had once sworn to protect his brother – on the day he’d been born. He would never break this vow, no matter what the Queen or the PM expected from him.

But he could feel something creeping up on him. Something would happen, and it would happen very soon. Hadn’t the faint smell that was reaching him from where his brother was sitting already changed? There was eau de cologne and deodorant, yes, but he could have sworn there was something underneath of these artificial odours which had not been there a few minutes ago.

Sherlock yawned ostentatiously behind him.

Mycroft shrugged. Perhaps he was just getting weird in his middle age… Perhaps his super smart, stubborn little brother would be able to fight the medication that was meant to trigger his heat. If anyone could, it would be Sherlock...

*****

_And? How is it going? JW_

_Nothing is going anywhere. I told you! We are just sitting around and will do so until he’s given up thinking I’m going to hurl myself on him. SH_

_Damn. I thought this medication works for everybody? JW_

_Well, I am not everybody, am I? He is working I guess and I’m doing some research for the experiment I told you about. SH_

_Sounds tedious. Well, let me know when you have turned into a sex-mad omega_ 😍 _JW_

_Don’t wait with bated breath… SH_

Sherlock really didn’t know why he had agreed on this insane experiment. Mycroft called himself the smart one – how could he expect Sherlock to succumb to any urges of his transport, apart from the totally mundane ones? Nothing was going to happen.

For a brief moment, Sherlock imagined how it would have been. He might have had these thoughts before.

 _And_ that’s _why you are here…_

Sherlock snorted. No. He wasn’t here because his brother was a long-legged, pert-arsed, blue-eyed, dimpled-chinned stunner. Wait, what?! Where had this come from? And since when did he have an inner voice that mocked him and found his damn brother desirable?

He had to calm down. Think of the money he had already received. Fine, if this worked out, he would get even more. He could go on holiday, somewhere tropical maybe. He had always wanted to do that. This Westwood suit he had seen recently wasn’t out of reach anymore… He could…

He stiffened. What had happened to his chair? It was so uncomfortable all at once. And… damn… Were his underpants getting damp? Was he sweating? Or had he become incontinent without realising it? And why was it so warm in here, and why did it itch like this down there… Oh God, no!

“Anything the matter?” Mycroft asked, still not turning around.

“Nothing,” Sherlock hissed through gritted teeth. He was not, NOT! going into heat!

Mycroft sniffed audibly. “Hm. There is a strange scent in the air, isn’t it?”

“I don’t smell anything. If you excuse me, I want to smoke a cigarette.” Sherlock got up, but instead of stalking to the door of the generous room on the first floor of the luxurious house that was obviously property of the government or perhaps rather some lord, built in the middle of nowhere north of London, his feet led him to his brother as if they had their own mind. God, Mycroft smelled so delicious. His eyes were so bright! He had finally turned to him and was staring at him, his pupils blown widely. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard and licked his lips. So big brother was not feeling that untouched either. But that was only a very slight comfort. Sherlock caught his hands nestling with his zip. No! He was not going to undress in front of his brother! With all the willpower he could muster, he pulled his hands away from his trousers and hid them behind his back.

“Don’t fight it, Sherlock. You should see yourself. You are gagging for me.” Mycroft didn’t even sound like himself. His voice was way deeper than usual, raspy and sexy.

Sexy?! Oh Lord… He was going mad… “They gave me drugs!” he rasped out.

“Well, yes. In a way. They injected something that exposes your secondary gender – you’ve read it.” Mycroft reached out for him like a zombie would grab a poor human to eat it. His eyes were the ones of a predator though.

This was not his Iceman brother! This was a dangerous, uncontrollable creature – an alpha in rut… “No! Don’t touch me!”

“You want it. You crave it! You’re leaking, Sherlock, I can smell your juices.”

“That’s disgusting! I’m not consenting!” Sherlock made a step forward. Forward?!

He had never felt like this in his life. His brain was screaming, ‘Get out of here!’, his penis said, ‘Damn, I have never been that stiff before!’, his arse was dripping and burning and itching to be filled and to be filled _right now_ , his eyes were glued to the large tent in Mycroft's black trousers, his mouth was watering at the prospect of sucking his cock, his _knot,_ but he knew it wouldn’t come to this now. Somehow his clothes were melting away and Mycroft was naked within the blink of an eye, too, and then Sherlock literally jumped his brother and made them both crash onto the floor, but neither man cared.

The next moment, Sherlock was taking something that should be, size wise, stored away in a broom closet into his virgin hole and there was pain but oh, so much bliss! And then he was bouncing on this large, hot cock, his hands digging into his brother’s shoulders and his arse and groin were on fire and the air was filled with bestial moans and grunts and it was just wonderful!

Mycroft sat up and grabbed him around the waist and they kissed for the first time, hard and needy, and then Sherlock sniffed at the long neck the alpha was presenting him while Mycroft was trying to lick at his swelling scent gland at the same time. Only moments later Sherlock was filled and stretched obscenely when the knot inflated and then there was thick hotness shooting up in him and he came all over Mycroft's surprisingly hairy stomach with a cry of pleasure – and then he just passed out.

**3**

“What… Huh?” Where was he? Why was he wrapped in a blanket in the middle of the day? On a couch in a room in… Oh dear God… The memories came like a train crashing through his brain. “No, no…”

“Sherlock, calm down. Everything’s fine.” Mycroft was sitting in a chair, right next to the couch. He bent forward and poured steaming liquid into a cup and handed it to Sherlock.

Tea! Sherlock took it gratefully and sipped at the sweet, hot fluid. Two sugars, just as he liked it. He made a little noise of contentment, and then he blushed to the hairline when he realised that Mycroft was wearing a silky, blue robe and nothing else, and he was wearing nothing except for the blanket. They had really done it. Mycroft had fucked him, there was no other word for it. He whined and the noise was embarrassing to say the least. How could he have done that?!

“It’s all fine, Sherlock.”

Sherlock avoided his brother’s look and downed the hot tea. John had said this to him on their first evening. What would he think of him if he saw him now, looking like a debauched sex slave – a sex slave for his own brother above all?

“I… I don't know for sure but I suppose your heat is not over.”

Sherlock choked on his own spit. “What? You mean this will happen again?!”

“In all probability, yes. A heat can last up to three days. And since it’s your first… And we can’t be sure that you have received… I mean…”

Pregnancy. Mycroft was talking about him having their child. Sherlock almost crawled under the couch pillows. He couldn’t give birth to a baby. Whatever would he do with it? Or… would they take it away from them anyway? Use it as a source for their medication? He should have read this contract he had signed. But he would have never imagined that this would really happen! But perhaps he wouldn’t get pregnant. Getting knotted didn’t necessarily mean that he would after all.

“You’ve received a treatment that increases your fertility,” Mycroft said softly. “Perhaps it is already done. Sometimes it ends the heat immediately, sometimes it doesn’t. The mysteries of the secondary gender…”

Was he still in heat? How was he supposed to say?

“Are you hungry, little brother?”

Sherlock looked up to Mycroft, and it was as if he was seeing him for the first time – the man, not the annoying older brother who told him to do better, to behave, to grow up, to do this and that and to _not_ do this and that. This was a handsome, powerful man who cared deeply for him. And Sherlock caught himself thinking that if he had to have sex with anyone, his brother was the best choice. And he would be a good father… Oh God… Was this his life now? And the next moment, he started to sob, and he had never felt so embarrassed.

But then Mycroft was sitting next to him, pulling him into a tight embrace, petting his hair. “It's all right, baby boy. I know this must disturb you so much. Let it out.”

And Sherlock did. He sobbed like a little child, feeling shaken and confused but also very much cared for. He clung to his brother and listened to his whispered words of reassurance that he would never let Sherlock alone with this and that he would always be there for him, and he slowly calmed down… And then his pulse sped up, and he found himself sniffing at Mycroft’s neck and licking it, and his arse got wet again and his hand was searching for the large cock his brother called his own, and Mycroft breathed harder, grabbing his arse with his big, warm hands.

And before he could even say ‘here we go again’, Mycroft had him on his back, covering him with his slim body, thrusting into him, and Sherlock clung to him for dear life. His tears had dried and he moaned and lifted his hips to meet Mycroft's strokes greedily, and he couldn’t take him deep enough and couldn’t get fucked hard enough and he screamed his arousal to the ceiling, fleetingly wondering if anyone was watching them now and if so, if they liked the show. And then he stopped thinking again as he was screwed into oblivion by his fantastic, forceful alpha.

*****

Mycroft wondered if his heart, unused to extensive exercise, would just give up in this or the next round while he was pounding into his brother as if there was no tomorrow. It was as if he was watching himself with his last resort of reason, going at it like a madman, high on his omega’s silky skin and irresistible smell and the smoothness of his dripping hole. Was this really the same man who practically lived behind a desk? Whose elixir of life was to scheme and manipulate and give orders? Nothing was left of this man now. He was pure male now, pure alpha desire and need to breed, to possess, to fill his omega to the brim. _His_ omega. Of course. He had always loved his little brother and within not even an hour, he had started to love his omega in a very different way.

This screaming, wiggling creature under him was still his extra smart, admirable little brother. A beautiful man who was craving his knot now, and Mycroft would never let him go again, not if he could help it. Sherlock would have their baby and Mycroft wanted to take care of both of them, make sure nothing and nobody would harm them. The government could have a bit of their child’s blood to get their cure but otherwise, everybody should just leave them alone. Sherlock was his, the baby would be theirs, and he would do everything to protect them.

And so, in the bliss of the second earth-shattering orgasm in this short time, he rasped out, “I love you, Sherlock” before he emptied his balls into him, his knot lodged in Sherlock's hole to keep his seed inside.

It had not taken a long time until it had deflated when they had done it before. Sherlock had been unconscious, and Mycroft had been deeply worried for a moment until he had remembered to have read that this was not an exactly unusual reaction, especially when it was the omega’s first time. Only five minutes later, he had been able to disentangle from Sherlock, and he had carefully carried him to the couch, cleaned him up and wrapped him into the blanket before he had hastened out of the room to make tea, looking after his brother every minute to make sure he didn’t miss him waking up. It had taken ten minutes until Sherlock had his senses back in the end.

But now, after he had climaxed for the second time as well with Mycroft's cock deep inside him, Sherlock looked up to him, very much awake.

Mycroft felt embarrassed and silly and changed the subject quickly. “Can you bear my weight until my knot deflates? Otherwise we…”

“No, it’s fine. You’re not heavy. Stupid weight jokes. Forget about them. You’re… slim and… _Do you_?”

Mycroft bit his lip. “Of course I do. Love you. Always did. Not in this way but… I know this happened very fast but be assured that if you really have our child, I will do my part and do everything I can to…”

“Will we bond? Next time?”

Mycroft was speechless for a moment. “You want that? But you are aware that you can’t take it back. And really, this is hardly a situation where you should decide this. It is irreversible,” he stressed.

Sherlock nodded. “I know. I may have not known a lot about this, but I do know that. And… I’m sure. After this… I can’t return to taking suppressants and pretending I don’t like sex. I love it. With you. Nobody else… I mean, urgh. Wouldn’t want to touch anyone else. And even the scientists say we are the perfect match, don’t they?”

“Well, yes. They meant DNA wise, of course. We are quite different in our characters.”

“Yes. Which is good. We… complement each other. You are… caring and reasonable and calm and icy, if you want to be. But you never were with me. Only when you pulled me out of drug dens… Don’t blame you for that. And I will never do that again. But… I want to go on working. Maybe more from home then. Not literally chasing criminals anymore. I mean I’m more reckless and I have a temper and… But we fit.”

It all sounded too good to be true. What if these were just the omega hormones speaking? What if Sherlock changed his mind when the heat was over? Well, if they really bonded, he would not be able to turn away from him. Bonds were forever. But it didn’t necessarily mean that Sherlock would be _happy_ about it. And being mated with a grumpy Sherlock who resented him for bonding with him sounded rather horrible. He cleared his throat, about to put his concerns in words, but Sherlock shook his head and spoke before he could.

“I won’t change my mind, Mycroft. I know it. Call it a premonition.”

Mycroft looked at him in wonder. “You are really sure? After such a short time?”

Sherlock smiled. “Short? I’ve known you all my life. Even though I was so stupid to push you away time after time. I know if I can trust anyone in this world, it is you. And John, okay, but that’s a completely different thing. I want you to be my alpha. So when it happens again, and I can feel it will very soon, bite me.”

Mycroft could only nod. And kiss him, and this time their kissing was not frantic and rough but tender and probing, and Sherlock's lips were so plush and soft and warm and Mycroft just melted away in his little brother’s arms. They kissed until Mycroft’s cock softened and slipped out of Sherlock, and he cleaned Sherlock with a wet wipe before he took care of himself. The couch needed some serious cleaning, too, but that was not their problem.

“Come, little brother,” he said then, tenderly. “Let’s eat something together to get some strength for the next round.” They would only have to reheat the excellent meals that were waiting for them in the kitchen.

“Fine. Feed me, my alpha. And maybe take me to a real bed then, if something like this exists in this house.”

**4**

Sherlock felt as if he was in heaven. He had no idea how this could have happened so damn fast but here they were – lying on a huge, comfortable bed, kissing and groping and mumbling words of affection he would have never imagined either of them was capable of uttering.

His next wave of heat was slowly creeping up on him and he could feel that it was the last one. The one that counted, in both ways. The one that would make them get attached to each other forever. And the one that would create the perfect child – perfect because it was theirs. Hopefully, it would have Mycroft's beautiful blue eyes and that sweet dimple in his chin and that funny nose. And perhaps it would really be the key to saving the human race. Sherlock wasn’t sure that it deserved to be saved. But maybe it had learned something from this disaster, had learned that what counted was not money and more money. Would start treating the world better. He didn’t have much hope but he would talk to Mycroft about it. If he couldn’t put measures in place to force mankind to be kinder to earth and its other inhabitants, who could? And Sherlock didn’t want their child to grow up in a hostile, destructive world. Maybe it was just the omega-hormones talking, maybe the love he was experiencing now made him see clearer. Whatever it was, Sherlock welcomed it. He had lived too long not caring about anything but the next thrill. He had cared about his friends, yes. And he hoped this would pay out now; they would need a babysitter once in a while…

Over their late (and excellent) lunch, they had been talking about a future as a, gulp, family. Mycroft had promised to decrease his working hours. He could work from home a lot more. Meetings could be held via video call. Of course he would also have to go to the office, and if only to make sure that everything went smoothly, but he would also be at home a lot. And Sherlock would move in with him of course, using Baker Street only for meeting clients, if their problems couldn’t be solved also by video call and email. He would still meet his friends from time to time, with the child then in all probability. Or he would leave it with Mycroft, if possible. They would work it out. It may have all come as a huge surprise and it was still rather scary, but they both had a very smart head on their shoulders. They would manage job and child care, and Sherlock was sure that his friends would help him out. Molly would be a tad shocked maybe – she had never even understood that Sherlock was gay. But he was sure in the end she would support them.

He gasped when Mycroft’s fingers probed at his hole – and then the heat jumped at him without warning. His brother’s kisses immediately turned greedy again and Sherlock could feel his digits sliding into his now dripping entrance. But he wanted more than Mycroft's fingers. “Fuck me, alpha! Fuck me and bite me!”

“Yes, you want that, omega?” Mycroft really didn’t sound like himself when he went into rut. But Sherlock loved this raspy, seductive voice.

“Don’t ask stupid questions and get your bloody cock into me!” he demanded, and he grinned when Mycroft chuckled. And groaned when his brother’s large member slid home. A second later they began the dance of love-making again.

*****

Mycroft knew he would never forget a second of this day. Every gasp that his brother elicited, every moan that came to his ears, the way Sherlock was clinging to him – it would be stored away forever in his mind palace, and he was pretty sure that Sherlock was doing the same.

Of course Sherlock would not go into estrus again when he really was pregnant. Would he want to have sex with him nevertheless? When he wouldn’t physically crave it so badly? But Sherlock had said he loved having sex with him. And even if they didn’t do it that often or maybe not at all until the next heat, Mycroft knew he would be happy if he were just allowed to be with his brother, hold him and hopefully kiss him.

But for now, they were fucking like mad, there was no other way to put it. Sherlock's legs were slung around his waist like two strong snakes, his feet urging him back in when he had pulled out just to thrust back into him. His brother with the famous deep baritone made cute little whimpering noises, meowing into his ear, lost in his need for being fucked and filled.

He croaked something now, and Mycroft didn't understand. “What did you say, Lock?” Even struggling through all of Sherlock's name was too difficult right now.

“I said bite me, alpha.” Sherlock glowered at him through his impossibly long lashes. He bent his neck, presenting his main scent gland, which was visibly throbbing now.

Mycroft still hesitated. He wanted it, oh yes. He knew he would never change his mind about it. But what if Sherlock did, no matter what he had said? What if… “Ouch!”

Sherlock had bent forward and bitten into _his_ neck. Even if he hadn’t missed Mycroft's scent gland by an inch, it wouldn’t have worked as the alpha had to do the bond-bite. “Get on with it! Your knot is growing and it will be over soon!” Sherlock urged him.

And if this was the last wave of heat for now, they would have missed the opportunity to bond. Throwing caution into the wind, Mycroft lowered his head, licked and kissed the hot gland – and bit down hard the moment he spilled into his brother and felt Sherlock coming stronger than ever.

*****

Sherlock was seeing stars and hearing the angels sing. Or so it appeared. Having solved the most complicated case in history – forget it. The highest high of a cocaine dose – didn’t matter. This was the strongest feeling he’d ever had, his heart seemed to burst in joy and his sight was blurred – by tears and the dizziness of the amazing orgasm he had just gone through. An orgasm not only of his groin. It was as if his very soul had exploded in joy and excitement, and it felt as if he had merged with his brother, his lover, his alpha and his soulmate.

They looked at one another with wet eyes, in awe at the incredible feelings they were experiencing. Both of them – Mycroft looked every bit as stunned and shaken as Sherlock was feeling. He could feel the burn of the bond bite but it was decreasing already. The wound was healing, and there would be a scar that showed that he was taken. He had seen it on plenty of people, and he had despised them for their weakness of giving up their freedom to be with a single, most of the times completely boring person forever. But he would be with Mycroft. His wonderful, smart, beautiful big brother.

He wondered briefly how their parents would react to this. Bonding with one’s brother was not forbidden and not even that rare but it had never been done in the Holmes family, and certainly nobody would have ever imagined that these two particular Holmes men would take to this. But it didn’t matter, should they be shocked. Sherlock was sure that when the baby was there, their parents would welcome it.

The baby. He could feel that the seed was planted in him. Well, yes, he could literally feel it inside of him. Mycroft's knot was still in place, as if his body knew that it had to keep him tied to Sherlock for as long as possible. It was done.

Mycroft looked at him with eyes full of love. “We did it, right?”

“Yes, brother mine. There will be a new Holmes with our combined brilliant genes.” What a thought… He could not really see himself sitting on the floor, playing with a toddler. And God – would he develop breasts and actually feed the baby? It was a terrifying thought.

Mycroft deduced his thoughts and pulled him even closer. “We’ll do this together, little brother. Every step of the way, we’ll be together.”

“Well, you can have the tits and give milk then.”

“Oh, I bet they’ll look lovely on you,” Mycroft said, leering, and they chuckled together.

An adventure was waiting for them; Sherlock had never planned or expected this, but he would pull it off. Together with his alpha, the smartest man in England.

Mycroft finally slipped out of him and cleaned him up. “Would you like tea?”

“Can I have a drink?”

“No.”

“Damn… Tea then,” Sherlock smirked. When Mycroft was gone – and he didn’t go without a kiss – he took a photograph of his neck, where the bond-bite was still throbbing and very visible, and sent it to John.

_Well, surprise! SH_

The response took several minutes; probably John had fallen off his chair.

_What? No! You are not telling me you… and Mycroft… Really? JW_

_Really, John. You will be an uncle soon. Sort of. SH_

_You are sure you are pregnant? Already? JW_

_An omega knows such things. Yes. SH_

He had no idea if omegas usually did. But this particular, very smart omega did indeed.

_Fuck… You will move in with him then? JW_

_Yes. We will have to organise everything. Both working from home as soon as it is necessary. But I will go on paying my half of the rent and solve cases in 221B. Of course, when you get your new job, you will have enough money to move somewhere else. SH_

_We will see. As long as you don’t disappear from my life completely. And I will be proud to be Little Holmes’ uncle. JW_

_I won’t, I promise. And that sounds good. Talk later. SH_

_Take care of yourself. You will be a mummy soon. JW_

_Shut up. SH_

_Okay_ 😂 _JW_

And when Mycroft came back with the tea, they cuddled up together, both feeling relaxed and happy.

“We will still have sex, won’t we?” Sherlock asked after a while, worried. His alpha had done his job for now but…

“Oh, I’m glad you want this.” Mycroft sounded thoroughly relieved.

Sherlock grinned. “Finished your tea?”

“What, now?”

“Now is the best time,” Sherlock lectured, and then he was all over his brother again.

**Epilogue**

Sherlock moved in with Mycroft a few days later. His pregnancy had been confirmed, and Mycroft told him that the PM was over the moon. John got his job but decided to stay in Baker Street until he might find someone himself, but so far, the dozens of women he had dated had never stayed for long.

Sherlock got his money but he didn’t spend it on clothes and cab rides. He and Mycroft spent some days on a lonely island to get to know each other better, far away from their usual lives, and to have lots of very pleasant sex. Both men put the rest of the money into an account for their unborn child.

Of course there were problems to solve. Molly Hooper suffered a concussion when she heard the news and lost consciousness due to hitting her head on a stretcher. For two pleasant days, she forgot who she was and that she was in love with Sherlock, and when she remembered, she cried for a full week. It took her two months to see Sherlock again and provide him with body parts for his experiments.

The parents were more than shocked and Mycroft had to drive to them to explain everything and soothe them, but then they insisted on having an official bonding ceremony on their property. Sherlock was not that happy about this but gave in eventually when Mycroft made puppy eyes at him.

DI Lestrade almost passed out laughing at the news. He had been the one to witness the brothers behaving like cat and dog the most, and the thought of them being a couple amused him to no end, but he immediately agreed to attend the ceremony, along with John, Mrs Hudson and Mycroft's trusted PA. Unfortunately, the PM insisted on coming, too, which led to the first row of the freshly bonded couple, but in the end, they reconciled on the living room carpet, making love near the fireplace.

Sherlock dreaded becoming heavier by the hour. He developed a strong appetite for baked beans with cinnamon, and seeing him eat this made Mycroft feel a bit queasy. Mycroft had started to work almost entirely from home, and he wondered why he had ever bothered with going to the office. If someone annoyed him now, he just had to press a button and the people disappeared from his screen. And he had to admit he loved sucking at Sherlock's growing breasts.

Nine months after their bonding sex, a pretty and healthy boy was born, and he was named Mylock Presley Holmes – Mycroft had always admired ‘The King’. Mylock protested loudly against being poked with needles to draw blood from him; in this he was very much like Sherlock. His blood was the basis for developing a cure against the pandemic, and it worked just fine. Soon the pictures of suffering people were history.

Mylock was a happy, beautiful, curious and extremely bright boy with Sherlock's thick curls and Mycroft's pale-blue eyes and dimpled chin, and he was the pride of his fathers. He grew up being loved and looked after by all of Sherlock's friends, including Molly Hooper, and his loving grandparents. And he grew up in a world of people who had understood that they had to look after nature and its creatures and after one another. It was not perfect but almost everybody did their best, and the ones who didn’t had to face some very serious-looking people who made clear that they had to overthink their behaviour.

Nobody was happier than Mycroft, Sherlock and Mylock Holmes and the many pets that completed the little family, and when Sherlock watched his son cuddling one of their dogs with his eyes sparkling, he felt nothing but gratitude that he had given in to something that had seemed stupid and crazy but had changed his life and the world forever.

The End


End file.
